Justice and Secrets
by Bureku720
Summary: A convicted killer is released after 30 years. On the night of his release, a murder is committed with what looks like his exact pattern. The police are quick to arrest him, but when he and a witness claim he is not guilty, the BAU is called in. When Reid is sure they have the wrong man, it's a race against time to find the real killer before he strikes again.
1. The Killer Strikes

Dallas Boyd sat in his cell. He could hardly contain his excitement. Today was the day he had been waiting for 30 years. It was the day he was going to be released from jail. What did he do, you ask? When Dallas was young and stupid, also known as the early twenties, he'd committed a series of murders. Because of his signature, he was known as The Rose Man. After he'd finished with the girls, he would draw a circle of chalk around them and place a single rose next to them. Only one, mind you, roses were expensive back then. Before he was caught, he'd ended up with a tally of 5 victims. He could remember their names clearly off the top of his head: Rosie Carter, Dolly Bartlett, Danielle Watson, Amelia Collins and Sarah Lightfoot. The last murder still burned in his mind, even after all these years. You see, this one was different. The girl, Sarah, had called out his name before he killed her. This seemed strange to Dallas. How could this girl have known his name? He sat in his cell thinking about it for a moment longer. All of a sudden, he was disturbed by the sound of his cell opening. _Is it that time already?_ He only had to look at the security guard to confirm his suspicions. He was being released right now. He studied the security guard for a moment. He was a friendly chap, much friendlier than some of the other scumbags around here. He'd always been nice to Dallas, and that was something Dallas was grateful for. "Hey Dallas, today's the day! How are you feeling?"

_Bloody great,_ was Dallas's first thought, although he did not want to say it, for fear of being rude. "I'm rather excited," he told the security guard. "I genuinely regret what I did, and I want to make it up to the community in any way I can."

"Well, come right with me and you'll be out the doors."

The security guard led the way and Dallas followed. They stopped only briefly at the entrance, so Dallas could have his monitoring bracelet removed and so the prison system could remove his name from the list of inmates. Following this, Dallas was given all he had come in with: $100 cash and his original clothes he had worn thirty years ago. He then took his first steps outside the prison in 30 years and stepped to the footpath where a taxi was waiting.

"Where are you headed?" The taxi driver asked.

_God, I hope I still remember the address… _Dallas thought. "17 West Side Avenue, Sacramento."

After a short while, Dallas had arrived at his old house. He smiled. It was just as he'd left it. The walls, now a faded yellow, were still neat and tidy. The grass was mowed, Mrs. Beverly must have done that, and his favourite bench was sitting just down from his porch, under the old oak tree, just as it always had. He paid the fare, stepped out of the taxi and set off towards the bench.

"My, I must be seeing things, 'cause I reckon that's Dallas Boyd!"

For a moment, Dallas was confused, not knowing who this woman was or how she knew his name, but then he could not forget the unmistakable Southern accent. "Mrs. Beverly?" He gasped. Mrs. Beverly had been his neighbor ever since he'd moved in at the age of 18. She'd been around fifty then, so Dallas guessed she was in her early eighties.

"You know it, kiddo! Now, come here and give ol' Mrs. Beverly a hug!"

Dallas stepped on to her porch and wrapped his arms around his friend. Even when he'd been found guilty, she'd lost no respect for him and still cared about him as much as ever. She'd written to him every so often and now he was glad to see her. "Was that you who mowed my lawn?" He asked her.

"You bet it was, mister! I couldn't leave a lawn that untidy, even if the place wasn't lived in!"

Dallas still had one question for her. "When did Nelly die?"

Nelly had been Dallas's cat before he was arrested. She'd been a kitten back then, and Dallas wanted to know what had happened to her.

"She died a few years ago, at the ripe old age of 17. They tried to take her away to the shelter, the poor thing, but I insisted on having her!"

"Did she miss me?"

"You bet she did! I can't _count_ the number of times I heard her scratching at your front door and yowling your name!"

"She yowled my name?"

"Well, not exactly. In the way cats do. Now, you want to come in here and have a slice of my blueberry pie?"

Dallas smiled at the thought of one of Mrs. Beverly's famous pies, but then he remembered how much he wanted to sleep in his bed. "Sorry, not tonight," he said. Seeing the disappointment in her eyes, he added, "Maybe I'll swing by tomorrow morning, okay?" He started to head in to his home.

"You'll be welcome!" Mrs. Beverly called after him. "By the way, when do you want your welcome home party?"

"I _don't_ want one!" Dallas laughed. He closed the door.

"Oh! One more thing!"

He opened the door again. "Yes, Mrs. Beverly?"

"If you need a car, you can use my old thing. I don't drive anymore, you see. It's probably still got some gas in it, but you'll have to fill it up on your first drive."

"Thanks, Mrs. Beverly!" Dallas said.

The old woman put her hands on her hips. "How many times must I tell you? Call me 'Joy.'"

Dallas smiled. "You'll always be Mrs. Beverly to me!"

Dallas walked across to his old bedroom and flopped down on to his bed for the first time. He was looking forward to a good sleep.

Hope Cyrus was running for her life. She knew she had to outrun this man, or die. About a minute earlier, some man had tried to abduct her, but she'd fought him off and started screaming for help. When he'd chased after her, she knew he was intending to kill her. She ran in to another empty street. "Someone help me, please!" She screamed. Her screams echoed through the street. It was late at night, and everyone had gone to bed. No one was there to hear her.

"Surrender now!" The voice of her attacker boomed. "You'll only die anyway!"

"Just leave me alone, you son of bitch!" Hope screamed. She panicked even more as she began to realise she was running out of breath. _I can't die! Not after all this!_ She thought. Her eyes glowed with relief as she spotted an alley. _I can cut through here! _

As she began to cut through, she realised there was no way past a brick wall. "No… No!" She gasped.

She heard the heavy footsteps as her attacker caught up with her. He laughed like a maniac. "Well, you can run, but you can't hide!" He yelled. He advanced towards her menacingly. Hope began to scream, but it was cut off by the sound of a blade going through her chest. She gasped once and then crashed to the ground, lifeless.

_Stab her again! Stab her again!_

That was all that went through the mind of the killer. He was having so much fun. He drove the knife in and out of her chest. In, out, in, out until he grew tired of it. He was sure he'd done enough. When he got back to his feet, he took out a piece of chalk and drew a circle around her.

_Almost done…_

To finish it all, he placed a single tulip in the center of the circle, next to the woman's dead body.

With that, the killer began to walk away. Before he left, he cast one last glance and the beautiful dead body of the woman he had killed.

_I hope you get what you deserve, you bastard._


	2. What Colour Is An Orange, Mrs Beverly?

"You're frowning," Reid said as he walked up to Garcia.

"What?" Garcia said. "No I'm not."

"Yes you are," Reid argued. "Garcia, I've been working with you for ten years now and you haven't frowned once," Reid said. "Is there something bothering you?"

Garcia paused for a moment. _Should I tell him?_ She wondered. _No… not yet. I haven't even told Derek. _"No… Nothing's bothering me."

"Really?" Spencer asked her, "because it never takes you longer than three seconds to answer a question, and that time it took you four and half."

"You actually kept a track of that?" Garcia asked, although she wasn't surprised. This _was_ Spencer Reid, after all.

"Yes, I did. Now what's wrong?"

"_Nothing!"_ Garcia repeated.

"I find that difficult to believe," said Reid. "First, I see you frown for the first time in ten years, then you take longer than three seconds to answer a question…"

"REID!" Garcia snapped, "I said there was nothing wrong, okay? So can you just drop it?"

Reid was shocked to silence. _Why is she acting so weird? _He thought. He began to run through all the possibilities in his head, but was interrupted by Derek Morgan. "Hey Baby Girl, Reid, Hotch wants everyone in the conference room. There's a new case."

Garcia let out a long, annoyed sigh before stomping over to the conference room. "I hate this job sometimes!" She growled.

Reid began to walk over to the room after her, but was stopped by Morgan. "Hey, Reid," he said, "what's wrong with Penelope? She's not acting like herself today."

"I don't know," Reid admitted. "She won't tell me. Perhaps you could talk to her?"

"After a response like that, she probably won't talk to anyone, not even me."

Reid frowned as he tried to work out what could possibly be wrong with Garcia.

"Come on, Reid," Morgan said, heading over to the conference room to get the new case. "Hotch, Rossi, JJ and Blake are waiting."

"Okay. I'm coming," Reid said, as he followed Morgan.

Reid and Morgan entered the conference room where the rest of the team was already waiting. Hotch looked at them as they entered. "Glad you could join us," he said. "Garcia, care to start?"

Garcia got up, somewhat reluctantly, and began to explain the case to the team. "Okay, so here is Dallas Boyd, a.k.a the Rose Man."

"I know him!" Reid exclaimed. "He chased his victims for a long time, before eventually cornering them, killing them, drawing a chalk circle around them and placing a rose in the middle." He sat back, feeling a little pleased with himself.

"Yes, thank you, Captain Obvious!" Garcia said, annoyed that she had been interrupted. "Now, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted," she continued, glaring at Reid, "Dallas Boyd was released from prison last night. However, also occurring last night was a murder with close to the exact same signature." Garcia flipped through the pictures with her remote. "Hope Cyrus, a 19 year old student, was murdered last night, found with the same circle of chalk around her and the same cause of death, but with one difference. Police found a tulip instead of a rose."

Morgan laughed. "If this is a copycat, he's the dumbest I've ever seen. Dallas is the _Rose_ Man for a reason, for crying out loud!"

"Well, that's not what the police think," Garcia continued, "they arrested Dallas last night."

"So why are we being called in?" JJ asked her.

"He's being stubborn. He says it's not him, and so does a woman who claims she was a witness, but the head police chief will have none of it. He's convinced it's Dallas, and wants us to make sure."

"That's odd," Blake said. "Wasn't he full of remorse last time?"

"He was," Rossi replied.

"Right, we'll head off to Sacramento then," Hotch said, getting up from his seat at the table. "Wheels up in 30. Garcia, you stay here."

"Of _course!_" Garcia snapped. "You all get to go everywhere while I'm stuck here in boring old Quantico!" She marched out of the room.

"Is something wrong with her?" JJ asked Morgan.

"That's what I said!" Morgan replied. "Whatever it is, it's making her crabby. I hope she gets over it real quick. I want the old Baby Girl."

"If you're going to gossip about me, at least make sure I can't hear you!" Garcia yelled from the next room.

The team said nothing more as they headed for the jet to go to Sacramento.

The team arrived at Sacramento shortly afterwards. Hotch wanted all the team at the police station first. It was there they would meet Mr. Clive Reynolds, the head police chief of the case, and a veteran of 35 years. He had also been on the original case involving Dallas Boyd. For most of the team, it was an honour to meet him.

"Greetings, Mr. Reynolds," JJ said, who was a little star struck herself. "How may we help you?"

"I need you to make sure that bastard Dallas Boyd is locked up for good! I don't know why he was even let out in the first place!"

"What makes you so sure it's him? Wasn't there a tulip instead of a rose this time? Killers normally stick to their signature," Rossi said.

"Normally, yes, but not this guy. I bet he switched the tulip with the rose just to fool us in to thinking it was a copycat!" Clive said, getting angrier by the second.

"Calm down for a second. Are there any witnesses?" Blake asked.

"One, but it's that deaf old hag who lived next door to him, Mrs. Beverly. Half the time, she doesn't even know what she's saying."

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING A 'DEAF OLD HAG'?" Mrs. Beverly shouted from the interview room. "I happen to have perfectly good hearing, if you don't mind, and I _also_ happened to hear what you just said!"

"Would you mind if we talked to her?" Hotch asked. "We'll talk to Dallas too."

"Go right ahead. You won't get anything useful, though. I've always suspected Mrs. Beverly was somehow involved in the case. She's always had Dallas' back."

"Okay," Hotch replied. "Reid, you and Morgan interview Dallas. Rossi and I will interview Mrs. Beverly, and JJ and Blake, you wait for us at the crime scene. Mr. Reynolds will take you there, won't you, Mr. Reynolds?"

"Excuse me?" Mr. Reynolds cried. "I'm the leader of this case, or have you forgotten that?"

"And I'm with the FBI," Hotch countered. "Or did _you_ forget _that?"_

Mr. Reynolds sighed. "Fine, I'll get my keys." He grabbed his keys and headed for his car. JJ and Blake followed him.

"Right," Hotch said. "Let's get these interviews underway."

Hotch and Rossi entered the first interview room, where Mrs. Beverly was waiting. As soon as she saw them, she said "I don't know _why_ they're keepin' me in here! I keep tellin' them Dallas ain't the one who did it!"

"You're certain of this?" Rossi asked.

"Of _course_ I'm certain! I did not see that car leave the driveway the entire night!"

"Are you sure?"

"Look," Mrs. Beverly said, getting annoyed. "If you ask me that, I'm going to rip your damn head off. Listen, last night, I couldn't sleep no matter how hard I tried, so I stayed on my porch, on the bench, with a cup of tea, a biscuit and the crossword from the paper that day. I eventually went inside at about 5AM, and I did not see Dallas leave the house, nor did I see the damn car move! Can I make myself any clearer?"

"And you'd be willing to testify in court if it came down to it?" Hotch asked.

Mrs. Beverly looked at Hotch as if he'd asked her what colour an orange was. "Are you thick?" She asked him.

"Well," said Hotch, ignoring her, "you've made yourself pretty clear. I'm not going to ask you any more questions. "Come on, Dave."

Hotch opened the door and left, Rossi following.

Reid and Morgan entered the room where Dallas was being held and sat down, facing him. Reid studied the man hard. "So, you're the Rose Man," he said.

"Yes, obviously," said Dallas. "Now, how many times will I have to tell you before you get that I didn't kill her?"

"That depends on whether we believe you or not," Morgan replied. "Tell me, what did you do when you got back to your house?"

"I've already told that bastard Detective."

"And now you're going to tell that bastard FBI agent," said Morgan. "I'll ask you again: What did you do?"

"Okay, here it is, step by step. I got home, talked with my neighbor, Mrs. Beverly, went inside, rested for a bit, drove to McDonald's at about 7:30, and then went back home. I have the McDonald's receipt if you don't believe me."

"When did you hear about the murder?" Reid asked.

"This morning when I was over at Mrs. Beverly's. Then that bastard Detective came in and arrested me without any proof! He's just convinced it's me!"

"Well, thank you for your time, Dallas," Morgan said. "We'll get back to you in a moment,"

"Where are we going?" Reid asked.

"To talk with the other members of the BAU."

He stepped out of the room with Reid.

"Well, we got nowhere with Dallas," Morgan said. "Did you guys get anywhere with Mrs. Beverly?"

"She's convinced he didn't do it. She claims she didn't see him move the entire night." Rossi said.

"He says he went to McDonalds. Should we go to his house and check that out?" Morgan asked.

"I'll get the Detective to do it in a minute. But right now, I think we should get a background check on Mrs. Beverly." Hotch replied.

"I'll call Garcia," said Reid. He dialed his phone.

"Garcia here, the all-knowing Queen of the Screens! What can I do for you, Reid?"

"Garcia, I need you to run a background check on Anne Beverly, 15 West Side Avenue, Sacramento."

There was a short pause while Garcia searched. "Baby, this girl is as clean as a whistle. She's a former nurse, retired a few years ago, had two kids and a husband who died 3 months ago. Just your average retired, middle-class woman."

"Okay, thanks. That's it, Garcia. See you soon."

"Bye," said Garcia, before hanging up.

"Did you get anything?" Morgan asked.

"Nope. Mrs. Beverly is clean. I'd say she's free to go now."

At that moment, the Detective returned. "Did you get anything on that bastard, Dallas Boyd?" He asked.

"He's convinced he didn't do it. Was he like this the first time?"

"No, actually, he wasn't. He showed more remorse than anyone I'd ever seen."

"Strange," said Reid. "He's the exact opposite this time around. He's confident and defending himself. It just doesn't add up."

"What about the deaf old hag?"

"HEY!" Mrs. Beverly shouted from the other room. I _can_ hear, you know!"

"Her statement checks out and we found nothing suspicious. We think you should send her home," Reid told the Detective.

Detective Reynolds let out a long sigh. "Fine, I'll go get her."

He left to retrieve Mrs. Beverly, and returned a short time later. Mrs. Beverly turned her back on Detective Reynolds and left the station.

"You aren't going to believe this," the Detective said, shaking his head.

"What is it?" Rossi asked.

"Dallas Boyd has just asked to go to the Crime Scene to clear his name once and for all."


	3. The Change

"Well, let's take him," Hotch said.

"Are you freakin' nuts?" Detective Reynolds asked them.

"No, we are not nuts," Hotch replied. "This way, it will prove once and for all if he's innocent or guilty. Go get him and tell him he can come."

Detective Reynolds sighed and got Dallas Boyd,

Dallas looked at them. "At least you guys aren't biased," was all he said.

"Right. Come this way, Dallas," said Reid, leading them out to a couple of parked cars.

Dallas got in to the car with Reid and Morgan, while Hotch, Detective Reynolds and Rossi went in to the other car.

Morgan picked up his phone and dialed JJ. "Hey, JJ, we're on our way to the crime scene," he told her.

"Okay, Derek," JJ replied. "This crime scene is a little weird."

"What do you mean?" Reid asked. He could hear the conversation as the phone was on speaker.

"You'll see when you get down here. Is Dallas Boyd with you?"

"Yes, he is," Dallas said.

Reid got the feeling that JJ jumped, because her reply seemed a little uneasy. "R-right then. See you at the crime scene, guys." She hung up.

"She hung up quick," Dallas observed.  
"She hung up 'cause you scared the ass off of her. Don't do that at the crime scene."

"I'll do what I damn want at the crime scene."

Reid sighed. He got the feeling this was going to be a _long_ ride...

The car containing Reid, Morgan and Dallas was the last to arrive. When the car stopped, Reid opened the door and bolted over to JJ. Blake laughed to herself. That was the fastest she'd ever seen Reid run, even if it _was_ the first.

"What's the matter, Spence?" JJ asked. "The last time I saw you run that fast was when you were late for that lecture a few months ago."

"Morgan and Dallas... would _not _stop arguing... the whole way." Reid panted as he tried to get his breath back.

JJ laughed. "Tough luck, kiddo."

JJ and Blake could hear the voices of Dallas and Morgan as they approached.

"... Admit it, the Patriots are a better team than the Bears! Admit it!"

"The Bears would kick the Patriot's ass any day!"

"When did this start?" Blake asked Reid.

"When Dallas scared JJ on the phone."

"How did an argument over scaring me on the phone turn in to an argument about the better NFL team?"

"Don't ask," Morgan said, finally reaching them.

"Anyway, you're both wrong- it's the Redskins."

"No it isn't!" Dallas protested. "The Patriots smashed them last weekend!"

"Will you all just shut up?" Detective Reynolds yelled.

Everyone was silent.

"It's totally the Ravens. Anyone can see that."

JJ, Dallas, Morgan and Detective Reynolds all started yelling again, until Rossi stepped in. "How about we save this argument for _after_ the case finishes?" He said, shaking his head. "And anyway, NFL is nothing compared to Soccer."

"The crime scene is just down that road," said Hotch. He started to head off. Everyone followed him.

As soon as they reached the crime scene, Dallas burst out laughing. "Look at that! He put a tulip there- what a dumbass! I've heard of copycat killers, but this is the most stupid of the lot!"

"You put a tulip there to cover it up and you know it!" Detective Reynolds shouted.

"How many times must I tell you before you get it through that stupid head of yours? I did not do it, you idiot!"

"Oh? You expect me to believe that, just because there is a tulip instead of a rose, you're not the killer?"

"No, I expect you to believe it because you have two witnesses and an FBI team!"

Detective Reynolds snorted. "Mrs. Beverly? As if she can be trusted. I've always thought there was something shady about that old bitch, but I can't put my finger on it yet."

"Now you're just being stupid. Look, I'll prove it wasn't me."

"And how, Mr. Boyd, do you expect to prove that?"

"Count the stab wounds. If it _was_ me, there should be twenty-five. I always stabbed them twenty-five times."

Detective Reynolds hesitated.

"Go on, count them!" Dallas insisted. "If you're so desperate to put me away, count the stab wounds."

Detective Reynolds bent over the body to count the stab wounds. _One... Two... Three..._

Once he'd finished counting, he stood up. "I can't believe this. I must have miscounted. I got twenty-four." He said.

"You see? I told you it wasn't me!" Dallas shouted.

"How about we get JJ to count them?" Rossi asked.

"You do that. This bastard is going away if it's the last thing I do!" Detective Reynolds growled.

"Well, JJ?" Rossi asked. "Care to count them?"

JJ counted the stab wounds, but she too got the same result.

"Both times you get a result of twenty-four," Dallas said. "Surely this is enough to convince even the most biased of Detectives that the Rose Man is innocent, Mr. Reynolds?"

"I may have made a mistake, and the blonde bimbo too, but what about the dumbass nerd? He won't make a mistake!"

"Firstly, I prefer genius, not nerd," Reid snapped, "and secondly, you called me a 'dumbass nerd'. You contradicted yourself, Mr. Reynolds. You called me a dumbass, which indicates that I am dumb, but in the same sentence, you called me a nerd. So, which am I, Mr. Reynolds? A dumbass or a nerd?"

"Just count the wounds!" Detective Reynolds ordered.

Reid counted the wounds, then double and triple checked it to make sure he was right. "Well, it seems that you are wrong, Mr. Reynolds. I too got twenty-four. Not only is it highly unlikely for three professionally trained officers to make the same mistake at a crime scene, I also never miscount. There are definitely twenty-four stab wounds, not twenty-five."

"How can you be so sure you never miscount?" Detective Reynolds asked, beginning to get defensive. He never liked being wrong.

"Well, firstly, I graduated from high-school at age twelve, secondly, I have a PhD in Mathematics and thirdly, I have a photographic memory. I am never, ever wrong."

"Screw this. I know I'm right. I'll see you guys back at the station."

"Take Dallas with you," Reid ordered.

Rossi looked at him curiously.

"I have something to discuss for team members only."

Rossi gave him a nod of understanding.

"Come with me then," Detective Reynolds ordered.

Dallas grunted, then got in the car. Reid waited until they left.

"Well, Reid," Morgan said. "What was so important that had to wait until Detective Reynolds and Dallas left?"  
"This doesn't add up," Reid said.

"What doesn't?" JJ asked.

"This! All of this! The tulip, 24 stab wounds, Dallas's attitude, it just doesn't make sense!"

"What are you saying, Reid?" Morgan asked.

"I'm saying it's not him! Dallas Boyd is innocent!"

"What the hell do you mean he's innocent?" Detective Reynolds shouted.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Reynolds, but there's no evidence to suggest otherwise. Like it or not, he's innocent." Reid said, trying to calm him down.

Rossi opened the door to let Dallas out. "You can go now, Dallas. Thanks for bearing with us today."

"Bearing with _him_, you mean," Dallas said, looking at Reynolds.

"Just go, before I lock you in jail, bastard."

Reid couldn't help but notice that Reynolds looked like he was about to cry his eyes out.

Dallas left the station, and Reynolds sat down with his hands in his face. "My one lead... Gone. These people, they trust me to put bad people away. They trust me to keep them safe, and I can't even do that, because I was too busy living in some fantasy world where Dallas Boyd was to blame for everything!"

"It's okay, you were just desperate," Hotch said. "I'd be desperate, too, if it was my town."

"He was right; I'm a biased prick!"

"No you're not," Hotch replied, comforting him. "You just wanted to believe that there wasn't another person like Dallas in the neighbourhood. No one will blame you for what you did."

"I think I'm just going to go home."

"Actually, guys, I think it's time we went back to our hotels, too," Morgan said, entering with two takeaway cups of coffee. "Reid, wanna drive back with me? I got you coffee."

"Is it decaf? Otherwise I'll be awake all night."

"Yes, it's decaf," Morgan replied.

"Good. Rossi, Hotch, are you, JJ and Blake coming, too?"

"Sure, Reid. A good night's sleep and we'll be ready for whatever the morning brings."

The group left Detective Reynolds on his own.

About half an hour after the BAU had left, Reynolds decided it was time for him to leave too.

He grabbed his keys and headed for his car. It was dark outside. He checked his watch. _10PM? Shit. There goes my early night._

He pressed the button to unlock his door. A twig snapped close by.

Detective Reynolds whipped around. "Who's there?" He yelled, shining a torch in to the bushes.

"_Who do you think?"_ Came the voice from the bushes.

"R...Reid? Rossi?"

"_Guess again."_

"Morgan?"

"_Keep guessing."_

"Dallas?"

"_Close, but no cigar. Give up?"_

"Yes! Who are you, for crying out loud?"

"_I'm the killer!" _The one from behind the bush through a blade at Detective Reynolds. He swerved to the side, the blade missing his head by a short distance.

"_Start running!"_

Detective Reynolds didn't need to be told twice. He took off like a rocket. "Help!" He shouted. "Someone, please, help! The killer is after me!" He took out the gun from his pocket and aimed a couple of shots. They hit nothing. _Shit. _He rounded a corner, and another, and another, before coming to an alley. _This is the alley I use for a shortcut!_ He sprinted through the alley, but as he got there, he saw that the way through was blocked off by heavy boxes. _Fuck! No, I can't die here. Not like this!_

The man who had chased him met with him in the alley. As the man began to walk towards him, Reynolds recognised him at once. "You? No... it, it can't be you! You of all people should know that this is wrong!"

"Why did they let that bastard go?" The killer yelled. "He's done so much wrong... In a world with him in it, no one is safe. Not even you." The killer kicked Reynolds in the stomach to make him fall to his knees. Then, he kicked him in the knee and made him fall to the ground.

Reynolds knew he had one last chance to flee. He pulled out his gun.

The killer knocked it away. "Think you can beat me that easily? No, no. Your time is up, Reynolds!"

"No! I'll make sure that Dallas gets locked away! Anything! Don't kill me, please!"

The killer smiled before stabbing him. Over and over and over again. _Keep going! Twenty-five! Twenty-five!_ When he'd stabbed Reynolds for the twenty-fifth time, he took out the chalk and drew a circle. Then, he placed a single rose in the middle.

_Good luck getting out of that one, Dallas._


	4. A New Suspect

**Note: This chapter contains the F word in it. If you have a problem with it, deal with it. Also, I have one small request:**

**I work hard to write this, so if you take the time to read it, can you PLEASE review it to let me know how I did? I know people are reading it, because I have followers, but all my reviews are from one person, so PLEASE REVIEW! Thanks, and enjoy the chapter.**

The next morning, the BAU were in the Golden Valley Hotel, sipping on coffee which Morgan had made for them with the coffee machine in the lobby.

"This coffee is _disgusting!_ Blake announced, screwing up her nose.

"Are you kidding?" Morgan laughed. "This is the best coffee I've ever had! We need to get this blend!"

"Sure, if you're going to buy your own personal coffee machine too. I'm not drinking that shitty brew every day," JJ said, gagging as she took a mouthful.

"If you all hate the coffee, why are you drinking it?" Rossi asked no one in particular.

"Because it's the only coffee here, and I don't want to walk five blocks to the nearest McDonalds at 6:30 in the morning, thank you very much!" JJ snapped.

At that moment, Sexy and I Know It, JJ's most hated song in the world, began to play. JJ cursed when she realised it was her phone. "Who the hell changed my ringtone!?" She screamed, throwing the coffee cup against the wall, before running out to answer it.

"Okay, who cha-" Morgan began, but broke off as he noticed Reid grinning from ear to ear. _No explanation needed, _he thought. "Okay, Reid, clean that up."

Reid was about to object, when suddenly, the group heard an extremely loud "What the _fuck?_" come from JJ. She re-entered the room a short time later. "Spence, if you change my ringtone one more time, the BAU will be profiling _you_ as the victim. Got it?" JJ growled.

"How did she know it was me?" Reid asked.

"What were you swearing about? We heard you from in here," Hotch said, looking more serious than usual.

"Well..." JJ began, "it's Detective Reynolds."

"What about him?" Hotch asked.

"He's dead. He became the next victim."

As soon as humanely possible, the BAU arrived at the police station. "Tell me everything you know" Hotch demanded, as he met with the new police chief, Detective Saltmarsh.

"Some joggers found him in an alley at about 5:00 this morning. He had the chalk circle around him, the rose, the stab wounds, everything," Detective Saltmarsh replied. "My men did not hesitate to arrest Dallas Boyd."

"Did you count the stab wounds this time?" Reid asked.

"It was the first thing we did," Saltmarsh replied, his expression darkening. "We double and triple counted, and we got twenty-five. All the evidence is pointing to Dallas Boyd. He's in there, if you want to talk to him again." Saltmarsh gestured towards a room.

Rossi smiled. "Thanks. We'll interview him later, but we need to do some of our own investigating first."

"Suit yourself," Saltmarsh said, walking off.

"I usually do."

"Rossi, what more do we need to do?" Morgan asked. "You heard what Saltmarsh said, all the evidence points to Dallas. There was a rose in the circle this time!"

Rossi shook his head. "It's not adding up. Dallas isn't that stupid. Morgan, I want you to call Garcia and have her do a background check on Reynolds."

"What do you want to do a background check on Reynolds for?" Saltmarsh asked, overhearing the conversation.

"It's procedures," Rossi replied. "Plus, we need to explore _all_ possibilities. Detective Saltmarsh, you and I both know Dallas Boyd wouldn't do something as stupid as that!"

Saltmarsh sighed. "You've got me there. Call her, and get back to me when you've got somethin', okay?" He smiled at the group and went back to his office, closing the door.

"At least the Police Force has a friendly, unbiased Detective this time," Blake joked.

Reid laughed. "Morgan, are you going to call Garcia?"

"On it," Morgan replied. He hit the speed-dial button to connect to Garcia.

"What can I do for you, Hot Chocolate?" Garcia asked.

"Hey, Sexy Mama, I need you to run a background check on Detective Clive Reynolds for me."

"Clive Reynolds? Like, the big famous Detective from where you are?" Garcia asked, somewhat shocked that she was being asked to run a background check on a Detectuve.

"That's the one, baby."

"Right, I'll call you- Oh."

"Found something already?" Morgan was surprised that Garcia could have found something that quickly.

"Yeah. It says he died this morning?"

"I know that, baby girl. It's part of the case we're investigating."

"You mean he-?" Garcia was stunned. She couldn't believe that a Detective could be killed by a serial killer.

"Yeah, the killer got him. Anyway, call me back when you got something, okay?"

"Okay, bye." Garcia hung up.

"How did it go?" Hotch asked Morgan as he re-entered the room.

"I've got her searching. She said she'll call me back when she's got something."

"Did you get any more out of her?" Reid asked.

"If you're asking me if she told me what was wrong, then no, she didn't. Now, who's going to interview Dallas?"

"Not me!" Everyone but JJ said.

"Shit. Thanks a lot, guys." JJ growled, stepping in to the interview room.

"Now, I don't want to interview you, and you don't want to be interviewed, so how about you confess and we get this over with?" JJ moaned, glaring at Dallas.

"Look, bimbo," Dallas growled. "Do you _honestly_ think I would murder the one guy who hated me the most _and _leave my exact signature?"

"I don't know, and call me a bimbo one more time and it will be _you_ who gets murdered," JJ snapped. "Now, where were you between the hours of 11PM and 3AM?"

"Ooh, you're feisty," Dallas laughed. "I was over at Mrs. Beverly's. We played poker and shared a blueberry pie together. You should have one. They're delicious."

"I'll be sure to note that," JJ sighed. "So, if it _wasn't_ you, then who was it?"

"I haven't got a clue! Now, why am I being held here when I was already proclaimed innocent once before?"  
"Well, let me list them off one by one," JJ said. "First, the guy who hates you the most is murdered on the night you're out of the police station, second, it's your signature, and third, you had the means, motive and opportunity. So, if there is someone out there who hates Reynolds more than you do, tell me who it is so I can arrest them and go back home to Virginia!"

"Look, bimbo..."

"Don't call me that again, dickhead!"

"I told you once before, I'll tell you again: I don't know who the hell would be stupid enough to murder a Detective, but it sure wasn't me. Why don't you go ask Mrs. Beverly? She'll clear it all up for you."

"Well, I might just do that!"

JJ stomped out of the interview room, looking grouchy.

"What's got you in a bad mood?" Morgan asked.

"He said that Mrs. Beverly would tell us everything," JJ announced, ignoring the question.

"Well, let's go get her," Rossi said. "I'll drive."

Mrs. Beverly had just made herself a BLT and was settling down to eat it when there was a loud knock at the door. "Damnit! Can't even eat my sandwich in peace," she mumbled to herself. When she opened the door, two of the FBI agents she'd met the day before were standing in front of her.  
"What do you two want now?" She moaned.

"Mrs. Beverly, we need you back at the station again."

"No! Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to my sandwich!" Mrs. Beverly snapped, making her way back to the lounge room.

"Mrs. Beverly, there's been another murder. The police have re-arrested Dallas," Rossi said, his facial expression serious.

Mrs. Beverly laughed. "Did that bastard Reynolds send you all the way down here, did he?"

Rossi shook his head. "He was the victim."

"What?" Mrs. Beverly exclaimed. She couldn't believe her ears. "Well, what do I need to do?"

"We need you to come down to the station and verify that Dallas was at your house between 11PM and 3AM," Reid told her.

"Why can't I just do that here? He was at my place the entire time, if you must know. He slept in the guest room. I can show you, he left his watch here."

"I'm afraid we need you to come down to the station. And grab that watch, it's evidence."

Mrs. Beverly cursed under her breath. "Well, if you're going to drag me down to the station, I'm taking my damn sandwich! You won't stop me from eating my lunch!" She grabbed the watch, put the sandwich in a paper bag and climbed in to the car with Rossi and Reid.

Mrs. Beverly was sitting next to Reid in the back seat, eating her sandwich. While she was eating, one of the pieces of tomato fell out of her sandwich and on to the seat.

"I'd prefer it if you didn't eat in the car," Reid protested.

In response, Mrs. Beverly picked up the piece of tomato and threw it at him.

"Hey!" Reid cried. "Rossi, can we arrest her for that?"

Rossi laughed. "Sorry, Reid, but I don't think we can arrest someone for assault by tomato."

Reid sighed and sat back in his seat.

Mrs. Beverly, Reid and Rossi returned to the station soon after. "Okay, can you come in here, Mrs. Beverly?"

Mrs. Beverly entered the interview room and sat down. "I can't believe you dragged me all the way here to tell you something I already told you at my house! Freakin' cops, you always need to do things the fancy way!"

Rossi ignored her. "So, you confirm Dallas's statement in which he said he slept over at your place?"

"For the millionth time, _yes!_ How many times do I need to say it?"

"And you brought the watch with you?"

Mrs. Beverly nodded and produced the watch. "See?"

Rossi nodded. "Right. We'll take this down as an official statement and you and Dallas can go home, okay?"

"Finally!" Mrs. Beverly sighed, getting up and leaving.

Rossi exited the interview room.

Detective Saltmarsh walked up to him. "Well? Did you get anything?"

"She confirms Dallas's statement. He slept over at her place. Left his watch, too." Rossi held up the watch to show Detective Saltmarsh.

"Right. Well, that means we have no leads again," Saltmarsh sighed. "Let him go, boys!" He called out to the other policemen.

The policemen open the door to the room where Dallas was being held and released the handcuffs. Dallas walked towards the exit, but before he exited, he stopped. "Saltmarsh, the murderer is closer than you think."

"What do you mean?" Saltmarsh demanded.

"Have a look at his and our histories. You'll get all the answers you could possibly need."

"Are you saying you know who the murderer is?" Saltmarsh growled.

"Of course. I've known all along."

"Well, who is it?" Saltmarsh yelled.

"No, I'm not telling you. It'd be too easy that way, you see. I like it when Detectives figure things out themselves." With that, Dallas left the police station.

"Great. No leads again, and Dallas isn't saying anything. Where do we go from here?"

At that moment, Morgan's phone rang. It was Garcia. He pressed the speaker button and said "give it to me, Baby Girl."

"Do you mean what I found on Reynolds or... something else?" Garcia said in a flirting tone.

"Baby Girl, you're on speaker," Morgan laughed.

"Oh. Right. So, I was going through Reynold's bank account and I found a number of payments to a Mr. Charles Blackstone."

"Charles Blackstone? Like, the Mafia guy?" Saltmarsh asked her.

"Yep. That's the one. So, I did a little digging on this Blackstone and found out he has an address listed about 10 miles from where you are."

"Thanks, Baby Girl," Morgan said, hanging up.

"So, you think Charles Blackstone is the killer?" Saltmarsh asked them.

"We'll need to bring him in. He might know something important," Hotch said.

"Our men will go to the address and bring him in," Saltmarsh declared.

"Blake and JJ will go with you,

"Says who?" JJ demanded.

"Says me. Now, go."

"Okay, this is the address. We'll go in round the back. Got it?"

"Got it," said Blake.

JJ hesitated, but agreed.

"Okay, go!"

The group ran out of the police car and arrived at a door to an old, abandoned warehouse. "Okay. 3...2...1..." He kicked down the door. "Charles Blackstone! This is the Sacramento police!"

Charles Blackstone smiled. "The police have come after me on many occasions, but never have I received a house call! What can I do for you?"

"We need you to go to the police station. We want to ask you some questions about the murder of Detective Reynolds."

Charles laughed. "He's dead, is he ? Can't say he didn't have it coming. Go ahead, do what you must."  
Detective Saltmarsh grabbed Charles and headed towards the entrance. "This will take a moment," he said.

At that moment, the Mafia produced a series of guns and pointed them at the group. "No," Charles declared. "I call the shots around here, not you. You can ask me all the questions you like, but I'm staying here. If you or any of your team take one step towards that door, my men will not hesitate to kill you where you stand. Now, go ahead," Charles said, sitting back in to a chair. "Make my day..."


	5. I Wasn't Scared!

Detective Saltmarsh gulped nervously. He had never been in this situation before. "You... you can't shoot me!" He yelled.

Charles smiled. "Yes I could. I could right now, if I wanted to."

"But you'll get arrested after what happened to Reynolds!"

Charles shook his head. "Not possible. I'll just kill everyone. You know, I have a huge mafia of about 50. You have a tiny police force of about 15. I think we both know who'll win." He grinned devilishly. "Now, we're both going to sit down, you're going to ask me these questions, and then you're going to leave. Got it?"

Detective Saltmarsh nodded. He wasn't going to take any chances. He turned to JJ and Blake. "Who's going to do it?"

JJ moaned. "Blake, will you do it? Looks like Saltmarsh is too scared."

Blake nodded.

"I'm not scared!" Saltmarsh protested.

"You're sweating and your hands are shaking- you are scared," JJ smiled. "It's okay, don't worry."

Saltmarsh smiled in gratitude. "Thanks."

Blake looked at the intimidating figure of Charles Blackstone. "Is there a... room where we can do this privately?"

Charles shook his head. "What you have to say can be said in front of all my men."

"I'd much rather do this in another room," Blake said.

"It's either here, in front of everyone, or not at all," Charles growled.

"Fine. Have it your way."

"I always do."

"Okay," Blake said, "tell me exactly where you were between 10PM and 10:30PM last night."

"It was Thursday. It was Texas Hold 'Em Night. Bloody Craig nearly cleaned me out too!"

Blake looked aside and saw a man, presumably Craig, gulp nervously.

"Okay," Blake said. "What about any of your men?"

"We all played poker," Charles answered.

"All 50 of you played the one game of poker?"

"We played in different groups."

"Wait," Saltmarsh said. "There's one thing I don't understand. Why would Reynolds be making payments to you? You're a bunch of crooks!"

"Thanks for the compliment," Charles replied. "As for the payments: You see, Detective Reynolds was not the perfect angel you seem to think he is. He had a very bad gambling problem. He was a terrible gambler too. He gambled nearly all the money he had. He turned to us for loans on a number of occasions. He owed us quite a bit too."

"When you say 'quite a bit', how much are you talking?" JJ demanded.

"Craig?" Charles called. "Please check our records for how much Clive Reynolds owed us."

"Yes, Charles," Craig answered. He shuffled over to a desk, unlocked a draw and produced a small green book. He turned a couple of pages and ran his finger down the page, stopping suddenly. "Thirteen thousand," Craig answered finally.

"That's quite a lot of money," Saltmarsh observed. "Did one of your men kill Reynolds to get the debt back?"

Charles laughed. "We usually wait until the debt reaches twenty thousand before we..." He paused as he searched for the right word. "Take action," he finished.

"By 'take action', what do you mean?" Saltmarsh demanded.

"We're a _mafia,_ for crying out loud, what do you think we mean?"

"You've killed people? We'll have to arrest you for-" He stopped as he glanced around the room.

"You'll have to what, sorry?" Charles asked.

"Nothing. I didn't say anything!" Saltmarsh cried, getting flustered.

"Fair enough. Are you finished?"

"Yes... We're finished," Blake said.

"Craig will see you out, won't you, Craig?" Charles said.

"Actually, we won't be needing an escort," Saltmarsh replied.

"I wasn't offering," Charles said bluntly. "Craig, show them the door."

Craig shuffled over to them and ushered them out rather quickly. "Don't tell anyone where we are," he growled. "Because if you do, we'll find you and kill you."

"Okay, we won't say a word!" Saltmarsh cried. JJ noticed he looked incredibly scared.

JJ, Blake and Saltmarsh climbed in to the car and drove back to the station.

"Where is he?" Hotch demanded as JJ, Blake and Saltmarsh re-entered, didn't you bring him here like we asked?"

"Nope. Long story. They scared Saltmarsh shitless though," JJ laughed.

"I wasn't scared!" Saltmarsh defended himself.

"You had a whole mafia aim guns at you. You have the right to be scared," Blake soothed.

"He what?" Rossi asked, dumbfounded.

"He had his mafia point their guns at us when we tried to take him back here. He was happy to co-operate otherwise, but he refused to leave his hideout," Blake explained.

Rossi pulled out a chair and sat down. "I see," he said. "What exactly did you get out of him?"

"He says he and the mafia were playing poker. He also said that Reynolds was a gambler, and owed them a great deal of money. He even had the records to prove it."

"Reynolds, a gambler?" One of the other policemen gasped. "No. Not possible. Not Reynolds."

"We found the records, you can see for yourself, if you're willing to come to Charles Blackstone's warehouse."

At that moment, Reid popped his head out from the Evidence Room where the BAU were working. "JJ, got a moment? I found something," he said.

JJ hurried in to the room. "What is it, Spence?" She demanded.

"I found something, look," he said, drawing a couple of circles. "This is where the two victims were murdered, right?"

"Right," JJ agreed.

"And the killer chased them quite a few blocks, didn't he?"  
"Yes, he did," JJ replied. "Is this going somewhere?"

"Yes, look. I drew lines for where he chased them, and those lines intersect here." Reid drew a bigger circle around where the lines crossed each other. "So, based on that, I'd say he lives in or near this area here," Reid continued, pointing at the circle. "He shouldn't live any further than 20 miles away from this area."

"Wow... Reid, you figured all that out just from the murder scenes?"

"Well, it was quite simple actually," Reid began, but JJ cut him off.

"I think we're ready to give the profile! I'll tell Hotch and Dave." She dashed off to find them.

"But... I wasn't finished!" Reid protested.

About half an hour later, Hotch and Rossi had gathered up everyone to give the profile.

"Okay, can I have everyone's attention, please?" Rossi asked.

The room fell silent.

"Okay, so we're looking for a physically fit white male, aged between his late forties and early fifties," Hotch began.

"Why late forties to early fifties?" Saltmarsh asked.

"Well," Reid said, "based on the murder scenes, we have to believe he lives in or near this area." He pointed to the larger circle he'd made on the whiteboard earlier.

"And based on how far he chased them," Morgan continued, "we concluded he must have a huge knowledge of the area. He has to have lived here for a long time, if not all his life."

"That still doesn't explain the age," Saltmarsh argued. "How can a man in his fifties overpower an experienced Detective like Reynolds?"

"Because he's fit," Morgan said. "As for his age, if I must make it so obvious to you, we knew that he had to have lived in this area for a long time. Once you get to about sixty, you wouldn't be fit enough to run 5 blocks at least and still have the energy to stab someone twenty-five times. So, we went with the maximum age possible: forties or fifties. Am I clear, Detective Saltmarsh?"

"Yes, you're clear," Saltmarsh said. "Do you have anything else to add?"

"Yes, actually, we do," Rossi said angrily. "Based on the crime scenes, we believe the killer has some sort of connection with Dallas Boyd. He either knew him well, was related or close friends with one or more of the victims, or both."

"So... This is revenge?" Saltmarsh asked.

"Not revenge. Justice. The killer believes that in order for Dallas to truly get what he deserves, he must stay in prison for the rest of his life. That is all."

A couple of hours later, there was a knock on the door. Hotch saw Saltmarsh enter, along with a man he did not recognise. "Saltmarsh, who is this?" Hotch demanded.

"This is Aaron Finch. Aaron, explain to Hotch why you're here."

"I want to help," Aaron Finch declared. "I want to help you find the real killer."


	6. Deadly Lead

_Note: To avoid confusion with Aaron Hotchner and Aaron Finch, from this chapter onwards, Aaron Finch will be referred to as "Finch"._

_Also, does anyone know how to do paragraphs on this site? PM me with an answer!_

After a short while, Morgan and Hotch were sitting down with Aaron Finch. He seemed to be preoccupied with something, but Morgan wasn't sure what.

"So," Hotch said, "I understand you want to help us in our case. Why is that, Mr. Finch?"

Tears started to well up in Finch's face. "Dallas and I were best friends in high school. He just got out, and we were going to have lunch in a few days, to catch up. I don't want him to get locked up again!"

"What do you think you can do to help?" Morgan asked.

"I don't know, but I'll do anything I can," Finch said determinedly.

"Well, we'll be glad to have you, Finch," Morgan said, smiling, "but first, I'll need to call Penelope to do a background check on you."

Finch was shocked. "On me? Why?"

"It's just standard procedure. We do it on everyone. I'm sure there's nothing to worry about."

Finch forced a smile. "Okay."

Morgan left the room and called Garcia.

"What?" She answered.  
"Woah, baby girl, you ain't yourself this morning. What's up?"

"I'm just tired, Derek," Garcia answered. "What do you want?"  
"I need you to do another background check."

Morgan heard Garcia sigh. "Name?"

"Aaron Finch."

"Where does he live?"

"Sacramento, California."

There was a short pause while Garcia typed the required information in to her computer. "Okay, honey, the first thing you need to know is that Finch is..." she searched for the right word. "Not the best computer on the market, as computer experts would say."

"What does that mean?" Morgan asked.

"He never passed maths- not once in his entire schooling years. He achieved mostly C's and a few D's. The moral of the story, he's not very smart."

"Okay. Anything else?"

"Nothing of interest really. He's got an ordinary job, ordinary house, he's got no wife or kids, but that's not really exciting."

Morgan nodded, but then remembered Garcia couldn't see him. "Okay. Thanks, baby. And get some rest."

"Will do," Garcia said, before hanging up.

Morgan moved back to where Finch was. "You're clear," he said.

Finch breathed a sigh of relief. "Can I help now?"

"Well, you see, Finch," Morgan said, "we're stuck trying to look for the guy who's trying to frame Dallas. Who do you think that might be?"

Finch shook his head, confused. "I don't know!"

"Can you think of anyone who... bullied you guys?" Morgan asked.

"Sami Okaya."

"Who?"

"Sami Okaya. He was a real bully to me, and one day Dallas beat him during school. Sent him to hospital too."

"Sami Okaya. Is that his name?"

"Yep. He was Japanese or something. I can't remember."

"Is there anyone else? Someone who was particularly angry about Dallas being let out?"

"There were a lot of those, man! How should I know?" Finch laughed.

"Well, then," Hotch said, "can you remember anyone who was _particularly _mad?"  
"I don't understand," Finch said.

Hotch sighed. _I'd better say this in the simplest way possible. _"What I'm trying to ask you," Hotch continued, "is can you remember anyone who was angrier than anyone else about Dallas being released?  
"Oh!" Finch exclaimed, as if he'd just realised he should've known that. "Oh, man, if you're looking for someone like that, I'd look for Brian Bartlett."

Saltmarsh sat up from the chair at his desk. "Brian Bartlett? Any relation to Dolly Bartlett?

"Twins," Finch answered.

Morgan gave Hotch a look. _Perhaps this is our guy?_

Hotch knew what the look meant. "How old is he?"

"I don't know!" Finch exclaimed. "Forties, fifties, something like that."

"And is he fit?" Morgan asked.

Finch shrugged. "He'd always win a race or two at athletics carnivals, but I can't remember which ones."

Morgan stood up. "Sounds like our guy! I better call Garica."

Morgan dialed Garcia. "Hey, baby, I-"

Garcia groaned. "I swear to God, Derek, if you're going to ask me to do another background check, I'm going to bash your face in!"

"I need another background check," Morgan finished.

"Fuuuuuuuck!" Garcia sighed. "Okay, name?"

"Brian Bartlett."

"Okay, the guy was related to Dolly Bartlett, an original victim, and he has a criminal history longer than Avatar," Garcia informed him.

"What does that mean, Garcia?" Morgan asked, puzzled.

"It means there's everything on here: Robbery, armed robbery, kidnapping, drug possesion, by the way, there's a shitload of those, and there's a couple of manslaughter and attempted murder charges."

"Shit. Has he got an address?"

Garcia searched again. "Yep. He lives a few miles from where you are, in 243 Smith Street."

"Okay, thanks, honey."

"Please tell me that's the last background check!" Garcia pleaded. "I'm tired of those."

"For now."

Garcia sighed with relief. "Later, Derek."

Morgan rushed back to the other room. "He's got a huge criminal record, and he matches our profile. I'd say he's our guy."

"Let's get everyone on the field!" Saltmarsh demanded. "Bring this bastard in to custody!"

Around about twenty minutes after the group had planned their attack, the unmarked SUV's were directly outside the house of Brian Bartlett. Reid observed that there was no car in the garage. Either he wasn't home or he was trying to fool them, in which case, every single member of the team was going to die.

The group exited their respective SUV's. Reid was sure that Brian Bartlett, if he was home, would have noticed them by now.

"Okay," Saltmarsh began. "JJ, Blake, Reid, Rossi, you guys go in through the front. If he tries to escape out the back, Morgan, Hotch and I will try to get him. Any questions?"

Reid raised his hand. "What if he's not home?"

Saltmarsh grinned. "Then we get to search the bastard's house. Ready? Go!"

Reid followed Blake, JJ and Rossi to the front door of the house. He glanced over his shoulder to check on the other members of the team. They were in their positions. _But what if this is a trap?_ Reid couldn't help but let the thought cross his mind. _What if he's waiting for us? What if the house is lined with explosives that he can detonate at the push of a button? Things seem to be going too smoothly..._

"Brian Bartlett? This is the FBI! Open the door!" Rossi called.

No response.

"Brian Bartlett!" Rossi called again. "You are _not_ accused of any crime, we just want to talk to you. So, I ask again, and this is the only time: _Open _the door!"

Once again, there was no response.

"You leave me no choice, Mr. Bartlett!"

Rossi kicked the door. Age must have made it weak, Reid thought, because it opened quite easily.

JJ ran in to the living room, her gun dawn. "Clear!" She yelled.

Reid ran in to the kitchen. There was no sign of him. "Clear!" He called.

Rossi went upstairs. "Clear!" He called. "Looks like he isn't home!"

Saltmarsh laughed. "That gives us time to search his house! Morgan, go join Reid in the kitchen. Hotch, go join Rossi upstairs. I'll search around the outside."

Saltmarsh went outside to leave the rest of the group to their work.

"So, Agent Genius, have you found anything that might tell us where this guy is?"

"Don't call me that, please," Reid murmured.

"Okay, okay, but have you found anything?'  
Reid bent down over a smashed cup. "Look at this cup."

Morgan laughed. "It's a smashed cup, Reid."

"No, look at it. It's a sudden drop. He must have been surprised. Perhaps he was abducted?"

"Do you think the killer took him?" Morgan asked.

"It's a high possibility."

"Yo, guys!" Morgan called. "We found somethin'!"

Everyone came rushing in to the kitchen as if someone had left a million dollars lying on the floor.

"What did you find?" Saltmarsh demanded.

"There's a smashed cup on the floor," Reid said. "From the way he dropped it, he must have been surprised."

"So," Morgan continued. "Reid concluded that he must have been abducted."

"Okay, this is now a kidnapping investigation!" Saltmarsh yelled. "I want everyone to search for some evidence that tells us where he might have gone!"

Rossi immediately bolted upstairs, while JJ and Blake went outside with Saltmarsh. Morgan stayed in the kitchen, collecting the evidence in a small bag, while Hotch looked around the kitchen for more clues.

Reid looked around. _Where should I go?_ He wondered. He followed Rossi upstairs.

"Rossi, why did you come straight back here?" Reid asked as he entered the room.

"Because, Reid, I never finished searching, Rossi answered. "There's something about these pictures, though."

"What is it?" Reid asked, suddenly curious.

"4 of these pictures are numbered, look." Rossi directed Reid to the pictures. "They're numbered 7, 3, 9 and 6. What does that mean to you?"

Reid racked his brain for answers. "It's a safe code!" He blurted out.

"A safe code?" Rossi asked.

"Yes, look at how the numbers are arranged. They aren't in order, and there's 4 digits, like a safe code. The code is in order from left to right, so the code number is 7396."

"Reid! You need to find the safe!" Rossi ordered.

Reid ran over to a large picture. He tapped it with his knuckles. Just like he thought, there was something behind it. "Rossi, help me get this picture down," he asked.

Rossi ran over to the picture and helped Reid pull it down. Sure enough, a safe was there. Reid entered the code, 7396. The safe opened instantly. Inside was a small gold key and a note.

"Pick up the note, Reid," Rossi ordered.

Reid picked the note up. "It says 748 Charleston Avenue," he reported.

"That sounds like an address. I'll call Garcia and have her check it out."

Rossi dialed Garcia's number.

"Please tell me I don't have to do another stupid background check!"

"Did I... dial the right number?" Rossi asked. This was not the Garcia he was used to.

"Oh, Rossi, it's you! Sorry sir, I thought you were Derek. What do you need?"

"I need you to search an address for me and tell me what's there."

"Sure, what's the address?"

"748 Charleston Avenue."

There was a pause while Garcia typed in the address. "It's an abandoned factory that was once owned by a company that produced stuffed animals. Strange. There's no equipment there anymore though, why do you need to know?"

"It's an important part of our investigation. Thanks Garcia."

"No problem!"

Rossi raced down in to the lounge room, Reid following. "We found an address- 748 Charleston Avenue. He has to be held there! Get everyone and go!" Rossi yelled to Hotch.

Rossi and Reid raced off to a car while Hotch called everyone else, who soon followed them.

As they were driving off, Reid still had the feeling that they were headed for a trap...

"Fluffy Kitten Co.?" Saltmarsh asked in disbelief. "Rossi, we don't have time for a tour of a factory that makes cute little stuffed animals!"

"As much as I know you'd love to do that, Saltmarsh, this isn't a factory anymore," Rossi informed them. "It's been abandoned for years, and we found a key and a piece of paper with this exact address on it. We believe Brian Bartlett is being held here."

Okay, same plan as before," Saltmarsh said. "Everyone go!"

The group headed off in to their positions. "Anyone in there?" Rossi called.

No response. Not even muffled screaming. _Strange,_ Reid thought.

"Okay, JJ, take this key and unlock the door," Rossi said, handing JJ the key as she was closer to the door.

JJ put the key in the locked and turned it. It unlocked easily.

The group stormed the building, but it was completely empty. Not one inch of it was occupied.

"There's no one here!" Saltmarsh cried. "We've hit a dead end- again!"

"Not necessarily," Hotch said. "Let's search this place for any more clues."

_Tick... Tick... Tick..._

Reid strained his ears. _Did I hear something?_ He thought. He listened closely for the sound. Nothing. He shook his head and went back to work.

_Tick... Tick... Tick..._

_There it was again!_ "Guys!" Reid called out. "I heard something- it sounded like a ticking noise!"

Reid moved closer to the source of the noise, edging forward until he was sure of its exact location. It was right under a loose tile on the ground. He uncovered it, and gasped in horror at the sight he saw. It was a stick of dynamite, rigged with a timer. There was only 15 seconds left. There was no time to cut wires. Reid knew they had to get out now.

"The place is rigged with dynamite! There's no time to detonate it! We have to get out now!"

Nobody in the group needed to be told twice. They all ran for the door.

Reid didn't look behind him to make sure that everyone was there. He was too focused on leaving.

When he got to the end, he leaped out. He made it out with not a moment to spare. When he looked behind him, the building blew apart.


	7. Fight For Life

The sound of the blast still rang in Reid's ears. He shook his head to clear it and stood up. Reid didn't believe in miracles, but he felt fortunate not to have broken anything. Suddenly, he remembered his team. _My team! I hope they made it out safely._

"Rossi! Hotch!" He called out. It was an agonizing wait, one that seemed to go on for years, before Rossi appeared in front of him, supporting Hotch with one arm. "Reid!" Rossi called out. "You're okay!"

"I'm okay," Reid confirmed. "What happened to Hotch?"

"He's broken his leg, so he can't walk," Rossi told Reid.

Reid suddenly felt scared. _If Hotch is injured, that means that there's a good chance the rest of the team is injured too. Rossi may be okay, but how can two people solve a case on their own?_

"Where's everyone else?" He blurted out.

"We don't know, Reid," Hotch said, his expression darkening.

At that moment, Blake and Saltmarsh appeared. Saltmarsh was crying out in pain, holding his right arm. _Broken,_ Reid thought. Reid noticed that Blake was bleeding heavily from multiple cuts, the most severe ones on her legs and forehead.

Reid ran through the names of the people safe as he tried to figure out who was still left. _Me, Rossi, Hotch, Blake, Saltmarsh... that just leaves Morgan and JJ!_ He hoped that they were okay, but he knew there was a strong chance that one of them had been severely injured. His heart was filled with both delight and dread as he saw JJ stumbling towards the group. Reid could see that she was hurt- she was bleeding heavily and limping, which obviously meant one of her legs was broken. "JJ!" he called out, rushing to help her.

"Spence!" JJ gasped, then groaned in pain as she stepped on her broken leg and nearly fell over. Reid thrust his arm out to support her, and she leaned on him gratefully. "Spence! Is everyone okay?"

"Almost everyone. Is Morgan with you?"

JJ's eyes widened with fear. "I thought he was with you! He isn't with you?"

"No... We thought he was with you!"

"Well, then, where is he?" JJ screamed.

Reid's heart sank. _Oh no... No. Not Morgan, it couldn't possibly be..._

"Morgan!" Reid screamed. "Morgan, where are you!?"

There was no answer. Reid's blood ran cold. "Rossi!" Reid called out. "Rossi, Morgan's missing!"

Rossi ran over immediately. "What do you mean he's missing?"

JJ broke down in to sobs. "I thought he was with you! I didn't think to look! Rossi gave JJ a hug. "It's not your fault," he assured her.

"Rossi, I need you to get JJ to the team. Tell them what happened, and that I'm looking for Morgan."

"Okay," Rossi said. "And Reid, make sure you find him."

"I'll try," Reid answered.

Rossi gave a nod and lifted JJ up. He carried her back to the group.

When Rossi and JJ had left, Reid resumed his search for Morgan. "Morgan!" Reid screamed again.

There was still no answer.

Reid ran around the other side of the destroyed building. "Morgan! Morgan, are you there!?"

Reid began to suspect the worst after Morgan failed to answer yet again. For what ever reason, he decided to go closer to the building, which was still in flames. His eyes scanned the surrounding area and came to rest on a shape, unmoving and alight. He stopped dead. The shape was all too familiar. It was the shape of a man he had known for the past 10 years. Although he tried to deny it over and over again in his head, in his heart he knew it was Derek Morgan. _He can't be dead. He can't be._

"Over here!" Reid screamed at the top of his lungs. "Rossi, I found him! He's on fire!"

It seemed like Rossi was at his side in an instant. "Reid, call an ambulance! I'll put him out!" Rossi handed Reid his phone.

Reid dialed 911. "There's been a bomb blast outside of an old factory at 748 Charleston Avenue. One person is unconscious, and a number of people are injured. We need ambulances immediately." Reid stated, before hanging up.

"Are they on their way?" Rossi demanded.

"Yes. Let's hope Morgan survives that long." Reid said grimly.

The ambulances arrived and had taken everyone to hospital. JJ and Hotch had their legs plastered, while Saltmarsh had a sling over his injured arm. Blake's cuts were bandaged, and at first glance, everyone would have thought the team had made it out reasonably okay. But Reid couldn't forget that his best friend Derek Morgan was in the room just opposite him, fighting for his life, burns to his legs, arms and face and still unconscious. _What if he doesn't make it?_ The thought crossed Reid's mind for a brief moment, but he shook his head to clear it. _No. He has to make it. There's no other option. We need him on this team. _He stared in to the room, seeing Morgan's helpless body for the first time since they'd brought him in to hospital. For the first time in his life, Morgan looked vulnerable, and that was what scared Reid the most. Tears welled up in his eyes and he swallowed hard to push them away. He felt an arm on his shoulder, and looked beside him to see Blake standing there. "You're wondering if he's going to survive, aren't you?" She asked, her eyes sympathetic. Even though she'd been on the team for the shortest amount of time, Reid knew she was as close to Morgan as anyone.

"I try not to," he said, tearing up again, "but he looks so vulnerable, I can't help it."

"The doctors are trying as best they can, Reid," Blake assured him. Reid could tell she was trying to stay strong too. She placed a cup of coffee in his hands. "Here. This is for you."

Reid was thirstier than he'd ever been in his life, but he was too upset to drink. "No, thanks. I'm not thirsty," he lied, handing the coffee back.

"Yes you are," Blake said, handing the coffee back to Reid.

"I don't want it, okay? Someone else can have it!"  
Reid walked over to the rest of the group. Blake followed.

"How's Morgan?" Hotch asked.

"He's bad," Reid replied. "He might not make it."

JJ burst in to tears again.

Saltmarsh gave her a hug. "It'll be okay," he said, trying his best to assure her, even though he doubted it himself.

"No, it won't!" JJ snapped. "You don't understand! It should be me in there!"

"Don't say that, JJ. Morgan wouldn't want you to," Hotch said.

"He wouldn't want to be in there either! He only got caught in there because he went back to help me!"

"What do you mean?" Hotch asked.

"When we were all running out of the building, I tripped, and Morgan went back to help me. He stood me up and told me to go, so I did. I should have made sure he was with me! Now he might die, and it's my fault!"

"No, it's not. Morgan went back of his own choice," Rossi said.

"But... I feel so bad!" JJ sobbed.

Rossi put his arm around JJ. "We all feel bad, JJ. Every single one of us wishes we had saved Morgan."

The entire team was silent for a moment.

Suddenly, Blake broke the silence. "Somebody needs to tell Garcia," she said.

Everyone stared at Reid.

"Why me?" Reid asked.

"Because you're the one who's closer to her than anyone," Hotch said.

"Why can't JJ do it?"

"Because JJ's too upset."

"Fine, I'll do it," Reid said.

"Reid, whatever you do, tell her that she is not to come here under _any _circumstances. Is that clear?" Hotch glared at him with an extra-serious face, one that Reid thought did not suit the situation.

"Yes, sir," Reid answered.

Reid went outside and dialed Garcia, trying to mentally prepare himself for what to say to Garcia.

"Hey, pumpkin! 'Sup?"

"Garcia..." Reid began.

"Oh, it's you, Reid! What do you need?"

"Gracia, something happened," Reid said.

"What... what happened? Is everyone okay?"

"Garcia, that address, the one that we called you up to find from Brian Bartlett's house. It was a trap, Garcia. The entire building exploded."

Reid could hear Garcia take a deep breath. "Reid, please tell me everyone got out okay."

"Well, no, not exactly."

"What do you mean?" Garcia demanded.

"Well..." Reid took a deep breath. He was going to have to break it to her. "Garcia, Morgan was inside the building when it exploded."

Reid could hear Garcia's scream through the phone. "Reid... Please tell me he isn't... _please..._"

"He's not. He's in hospital now. We don't know if he's going to make it."

"That's it," Garcia said firmly. "I'm coming over there."

"But Hotch said-"

"Reid, I don't _care_ what Hotch said. I am coming over to Sacramento, and nobody, _especially _not Hotch, is going to stop me!" She hung up the phone.

"How did she take it?" Hotch asked as Reid came back inside.

"Not well. She's on her way over."

"Reid, I _specifically_ said not to-"

Reid cut Hotch off. "She wouldn't listen," he said. "Is there any news?"

"He's still unconscious, but the doctor said he should wake up in a day or two."

Reid breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God," he said.

"You know what this means, don't you?" Saltmarsh said suddenly.

"What are you on about?" Rossi asked.

"Someone knew we would go to Brian Bartlett's house. Someone knew we'd find the address. Someone planted those explosives there."

"What are you saying?" Blake asked.

"Someone tried to kill us. And I'm not a gambling man, but I bet my _entire_ career that it was the same person who killed Reynolds. He's set this all up... It's like a... big diversion for the real target. He's targeted one person this entire time. But who could it be?"

Reid couldn't think of who the killer might be targeting. He thought about it long and hard. _Who is the one person likely to be the main target?_

His mind flashed back to the crime scenes. _The chalk... The roses... The chase... It's all the same as..._

"Dallas is the target! We need to find Dallas!"


	8. Can The Real Killer Please Step Forward?

_Note: this is going to be a short chapter. Sorry!_

Dallas Boyd was sitting on the couch inside his house, the kettle on the boil. He'd been on his feet all night, fixing up his house to make it look livable again, and he was really looking forward to kicking back and relaxing. Since he'd been released from the police station for the final time, he'd had a relatively uneventful few days, only venturing outside to do some shopping, or to stop over at Mrs. Beverly's for some pie. He'd found it hard to adjust to the world. This wasn't what he was used to. There was so much technology. He'd enrolled in a computer class to learn how to use the things, as he figured that he'd eventually need one.

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud knock at the door. "Who the fuck is knocking at this hour?" He said to himself as he walked over to the door. In the background, he could hear the kettle squealing.

He was very surprised when he saw that it was Aaron Finch, his old high-school friend.

"Hey, Dal!" Finch exclaimed. Dallas sighed. _He's still using high-school nicknames? _

"Hey, Finchy! What are you doing here? I thought we weren't meeting until tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I know you said that, but I was so keen to meet up with you, I came over early!" Finch said.

Dallas glanced at the clock, which read 8:30PM. If it was any other guest, he would have refused, and told them to go home, but Finch had a slight learning disability and was also very sensitive. If he'd said know, Finch might have seen that as rude, and would've been mad at Dallas, and the last thing Dallas needed was for another person to be mad at him.

Finch smiled and sat down.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" Dallas offered. "I'm just about to make one for myself."

"Sure, that'd be great!" Finch said excitedly.

Dallas walked over to the kitchen. He couldn't get the thought out of his head that there was some other reason that Finch was here. It really wasn't like him. Why didn't he...

_Pow._

The sound of the bullet roared in Dallas's ears and a searing pain shot through his right leg. He turned back to face Finch. He was standing in the kitchen entrance, aiming a gun.

"Finch, what the... It's you! You killed them all!"

"Yes, I did. And here I was thinking _you_ were the genius. How come it took you this long to figure out it was me?"

"But... why?" Dallas asked, his eyes widening.

"Why? Why? The answer should be fucking obvious! You killed my girlfriend, you heartless bastard! She was the only one who loved me for who I was, and we were going to get married and grow old together! I was going to propose to her on our anniversary, but you _fucking killed her!"_

For a moment, Dallas couldn't think of who Finch's girlfriend was, but then it hit him. Sarah Lightfoot. She'd called out his name. She'd been the only one to recognise him, and that was because she was his best friend's girlfriend.

"Finch, I'm so sorry!" Dallas said, his voice pleading. "I didn't know she was your girlfriend!"

"You're sorry?" Finch laughed. "Wow. It's _way_ too late to be sorry, Dal!"

"I regret it all, I promise you that! I've learned my lesson!"

Finch acted as if he hadn't heard Dallas. "You know what the worst part is?" He asked Dallas, in a rhetorical question. "You only got thirty years. Thirty _fucki_ng years, and then you got to continue on with your life like nothing happened! But Sarah, she's dead _forever!_ She didn't get to come back after thirty years, so why the fuck should you!? You deserve to rot in hell for what you did to me!"

He brought out a large knife and began advancing menacingly towards Dallas. Dallas knew what this meant. He was about to die. _Karma's a bitch,_ he thought to himself. _I learned that the hard way._

All of a sudden, there was a knock on his door and it swung open. Mrs. Beverly entered his house, carrying a plate of raspberry muffins. "Dallas? The lights were on, so I knew you were home. Come on out, there's no hidin' from-"  
As she entered the kitchen, she gasped in shock and dropped the plate of muffins. "Holy- you! You're the murderer!"

"Tell me something I don't know," Finch responded.

"I gotta call the police!" Mrs. Beverly ran to Dallas's phone and picked it up. She glanced back at Finch and Dallas in the kitchen.

"Stay out of this, you _bitch!_" Finch roared, throwing the knife in her direction. Mrs. Beverly screamed and ducked. Mere seconds later, the knife slammed in to the wall- right where she had been standing. Mrs. Beverly screamed again. She began to shake all over. _Is this really the way fate intended ol' Beverly to go? Well, fuck you, fate. Fuck you._

"Oh, are we scared?" Finch laughed. "Anyway, I need you to shut the door, so we don't have any more... unexpected guests."

Mrs. Beverly did not move.

"_SHUT IT!" _Finch roared. He pointed the gun at her and placed his hand on the trigger.

Mrs. Beverly ran over to the door and shut it, making a slam louder than she had intended. She gulped nervously. "Don't shoot me!" She begged.

Finch laughed. "Shoot you? No, I want to have fun! You're going to watch Dallas die!" He went over to the wall and tried to pull the knife out, to no success. "Shit," he muttered under his breath. He went in to the kitchen and selected Dallas's biggest knife. This would do perfectly!

At that moment, he spotted Mrs. Beverly's raspberry muffins that she had brought in to Dallas's place, wrapper side down on the floor, so they had not been contaminated with whatever shit might be on Dallas's floor. He picked one up and looked at it. "What the hell are these?" He demanded.

"They're muffins, idiot," Mrs. Beverly growled. "Or are you even more dumb than I thought?"

"I'm not dumb!" Finch protested. He took a bite out of it, screwed up his face and spat it out immediately. "This tastes like crap," he said, throwing the muffin in to the bin.

Infuriated by what Finch had done to her muffins, Mrs. Beverly instantly forgot all danger she was in, and walked over to Finch. "Oh, HELL NO!" She screamed. "You did _not_ just throw my muffins in the bin!" She slapped him repeatedly. "You bastard! I'll teach you to be cruel to my muffins!" She kicked him in the testicles, but not very hard. "Next time, think before you act!" She spat.

"You..." Finch wheezed threw the pain. He breathed deeply, erasing some of the pain. "How dare you try and stop me?" He punched her in the jaw, knocking her out cold.

"Mrs. Beverly!" Dallas gasped. "Finch, your quarrel is with me. Go ahead, kill me, but leave her out of it now, okay?"

Finch picked up the knife and laughed again. "As you wish. Goodbye, Dal." He advanced towards Dallas wickedly, laughing with every step.

At that moment, the front door burst open and Reid and Rossi entered, guns drawn. "Drop it, Finch! The game's over!" Rossi screamed.

"What?" Finch's face had shock written all over it. "This... no, you're supposed to be dead! I planned it perfectly!"

"Well, I guess your perfect plan wasn't so perfect after all. Drop it, Finch!" Rossi demanded.

Finch stayed still, saying nothing.

"Drop the knife, or we'll _shoot!" _Rossi roared.

That got through to Finch. He dropped the knife and immediately started sobbing. "Okay, I'll come with you! Just don't kill me!"

"I won't guarantee anything," Rossi growled. "Handcuffs, please, Reid."

Reid grabbed the handcuffs and walked over to Finch. He placed the handcuffs on his back. As he did so, thoughts of Morgan lying unconscious in the hospital bed hit him. "Please remain as quiet as possible," he said angrily. "Anything you say now can be used against you. If you don't have a lawyer, one will be appointed for you. Not that you deserve it, after what you've done."

They were about to walk out when Dallas said "got any smelling salts for Mrs. Beverly? She still hasn't woken up."

Reid looked at Rossi, not sure what to do.

"Go get the smelling salts, Reid. I'll take this bastard," Rossi said.

Reid retrieved the smelling salts and waved the salts over Mrs. Beverly, who soon regained consciousness.

"Well, I think I need a slice of blueberry pie after all that!" Mrs. Beverly said. "And by the way, asshole," she said to Finch. "You even think about knocking me out again, and I'll kick your ass all the way to North Korea. Got it?"

Finch nodded in understanding. There was no use trying to fight, he was beaten. Even he knew that.

"Are you okay, Mrs. Beverly?" Reid asked.

"I'm fine, young one. I just need to get home, cut myself a slice of blueberry pie, kick my feet up and watch _So You Think You Can Dance."_

"Actually, Mrs. Beverly," Rossi said. "We'll need you to come down to the station now and make a statement."

"No way in hell!" Mrs. Beverly protested. "Now, listen here, Mr. Fancy FBI Agent, I've been waitin' all _week _for _So You Think You Can Dance,_ and I ain't missin' it for anythin'! The statement can wait until tomorrow!"

Rossi laughed. Nobody won an argument against Mrs. Beverly. "Fine, have it your way. You can give the statement to the police tomorrow."

Mrs. Beverly's watch beeped. "Shit. It's starting. Gotta run!" Mrs. Beverly took off as fast as she could to get back to her home.

"I don't think I've ever seen an 85 year old woman run that fast!" Rossi joked.

"Shouldn't we drive to the station and get this interview over with?" Reid asked. "I want to get back to the hospital. Garcia's probably there by now."

Rossi nodded and started the car for the short drive back to the station.

"Why did you do it?" That was the first question Reid asked. That was _always_ the first question anyone asked. He was sitting in the interview room beside Rossi, staring in to the face of Aaron Finch. Finch had stopped sobbing since they'd left Dallas Boyd's house, but he was still emotional. Not that he had the right to be, after what he'd done.

"Why'd I do it?" Finch asked. "Let me tell you why. The... The _bastard..."_

Reid guessed that Finch was referring to Dallas there.

"...killed my girlfriend! Do you know how much I got bullied at school? Do you know how many times I was turned down by a girl I liked? All the time! And I finally found Sarah, the one who understood me more than any girl I'd ever known, and I knew I had to marry her, and I was going to propose to her... and he killed her! He took away the one thing in life that mattered to me. He had to pay."

"So, to get revenge on him, you killed a bunch of innocent girls and injured an entire team of FBI Agents, one critically? Is that right, Finch!?" Rossi yelled.

"It didn't have to be like that! None of it would've happened if the justice system hadn't deceived me! He wasn't meant to only get 30 years. Sarah didn't get to come back after 30 years. This whole thing was about Dallas getting the justice he deserved! And the only way I could do that was have him locked back inside, so I killed all those girls, hoping they'd pin the blame on him! I even killed the Detective!"

"That's it. The interview's over. We've got all we need, take him away," Rossi demanded.

A police officer entered the room and led Finch to the door.

"And Finch, one more thing,"

Finch turned back. "Yes, Rossi?"

"If Morgan dies, I will personally see to it that you _never_ see the light of day again. Do you hear me?"  
"And what if he doesn't?" Finch asked.

"Then I'll pick out a lovely prison for you. Go. The sight of you is making me want to throw up."  
The police officer led Finch out of the room.

"Wow, I wasn't expecting that," Reid said.

"Nor was I, Reid," Rossi admitted.

"Shall we go back to the hospital now?" Reid asked.

"Sure. You drive," Rossi said.


End file.
